


What Might Have Been

by TheonSugden



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, death mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4644225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheonSugden/pseuds/TheonSugden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron at Jackson's grave on the fourth anniversary of his death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Might Have Been

“Nobody remembers but me.”

Most of ‘em that knew Jackson probably remembered, but they didn’t want to remember. Or they just couldn’t. They couldn’t let themselves. Or they were like Adam, who’d look sad if you reminded him, but just didn’t have the ability to react beyond a sympathy hug or a free pint.

“He’s gettin’ hitched,” Aaron said to the grave, somehow waiting to get an answer back. “Never thought he would. Thought he’d work his way through t’village first, maybe settle in on Edna…” 

He could hear Jackson chiding him and hiding his laugh behind one of his smooth-calloused hands.

“It’s Vic. You remember her. She’s a good lass. Good woman, I guess I’m s’posed to say. You were always better at that than I was. Not offending anybody, I mean. Thought you were a right bore.”

Aaron had become pretty boring himself, hidden behind a fake half-smile and a hoodie, barely bothering to react to anything or anyone. 

“It’s not ‘cos of you, Jackson. I tried to do what you’d want. Live life. Every day a new day. A smile is your umbrella. All the rest.”

The only problem was when Aaron tried to live life, someone else always died. Clyde…Jackson…Katie…

“I know you must be so ashamed o’me,” he added, eyes filling with tears. “I didn’t wanna do this today. Today’s about you, not me. I’m just…seein’ you here. I can’t help it. I’m sorry.”

He knew Jackson wanted him to be happy. A few times these last six months, he’d been happier than he’d been most of his life. But the cost wasn’t worth it. And Robert wasn’t worth it. Not the Robert he’d come to know, the one everyone else had always known. Even now, he wasn’t sure, he still saw more in Robert, and that frightened him, because that meant hurting more people, not being able to stop himself. 

The way he’d hurt Jackson, over and over again, until Jackson had only seen one way out.

“Maybe you can tell me how to be happy, Jackson,” he said, quietly, brushing the gravestone with the corner of his sleeve. “Maybe you can tell me. Gimme a sign. A big strapping bruiser to keep me warm at nights, way you did…way you tried, when I let you. Just drop ‘im in from the sky. I’ll give ‘im a chance.”

“Aaron?”

Aaron looked up from his crouch to see Bob, holding fresh flowers and a cup of Jackson’s favorite espresso. 

“Something funny?” Bob asked, confused, as Aaron ate the smirk off his face.

They talked briefly about Hazel’s latest letter, about how kind it was of Megan Macey to keep the gravesite trimmed the way her brother Declan always did for Jackson, about how much they missed him. 

Aaron thanked him for remembering, turning back to what was left of Jackson after Bob walked away.

“Always had a shit sense of humor,” Aaron grinned. 

He thought of Jackson’s grin, how it had lit up the room…how it had made Aaron feel like he never deserved that type of look, or love.

“Sometimes I think, if you’d…if we’d…if we’d be like Vic and Adam now. Don’t think I coulda done it, Jackson. Wasn’t good enough for ya. Woulda made you hate me. But that’s the one - only - good thing. I can pretend, y’know?” he asked as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Tell meself we’d be happy. I’d prove I deserved ya. Like I ever did, really…”

He wanted to touch Jackson, but all he felt was cold marble. 

He still remembered his nights with Jackson, however few they were. How he’d never been able to let go, how he wished he’d tried. But if he only remembered what he’d done wrong with Jackson, what he’d never let himself be. there’d be nothing left…just a grave. 

“You were me first…” he said as he slowly began to stand, ankle still aching from the night in the woods. “And you’re always gonna be me best.”

He ran his thumb along the cold stone one last time, letting himself pretend it was warm. 


End file.
